


Villainous

by thedearqueen



Category: Death Note
Genre: Implied Mpreg, M/M, Non-Canonical, mafia!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 18:37:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3498737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedearqueen/pseuds/thedearqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part One of the Fanfiction Meme on Tumblr. "MelloXNear: Mafia; Kids"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Villainous

"Damn.."

Mello kicked the door of his apartment shut with the back of his heel. He looked out into the black living room, eyes squinting together to reveal some sort of path through the darkness. His steps were careful, maneuvering in a manner to not step on the toys that lay riddled on the floor. He groaned under his breath, just barely escaping the beheading of a Transformer. "Near..."

He passed through the minefield with little to spare of his patience, cutting through the hallway to duck inside the corner bathroom. A click of the door sounded and he was left alone in the same silence, yellow light edging from the ceiling down over his reflection in the mirror. He had found sanctuary.

Every night of work would end this very way. No matter his exhaustion, his feet would take him to the same spot in the bathroom; center stage in front of the mirror.

His hair was the same. The winter months had it reaching its sunset tint, tresses chopped strategically at the ends, framing his strong jaw until they ended just above his shoulder. His eyes were in the exact viper sharp fixation, but small lines were growing underneath them. If he didn't glare so much they would have never came, or that’s what they said, but Mello found no reason in avoid them. He reached 25 three years ago and he looked no different than when he was 21, if not better. His body was strong, carved, and filled out. He could catch the attention of anyone within a mile radius. 

Every ounce of his physical appearance was something to be proud of, good and bad. From his long scar running down his left side resulting from a chemical accident, to the cuts and bruises of everyday's difficulties. He cherished what made him stronger, what made him more powerful. A wicked grin slid on his lips. It was a wonder why Mello did this every night, why he observed himself in the silence for what seemed like hours. Eyes rolled down on the reflection, taking in the perfect vision that took years to create- but his mistake was bringing his hands up. The gratified grin was erased, pupils shaken. Then the same crushing revelation came to sight. This time he spent to himself, it had nothing to do with his appearance, nothing with pride or accomplishment. It never had. It was a distraction before the true thoughts came flooding in; the horrible truth that came in crimson color.

With a flick of the nozzle, Mello began to hastily wipe away the blood still remaining on his gloves.

His pride came with a price. The strong body he had developed had become a vision on par with the Angel of Death himself. Countless bodies had seen him as their last sight. He had looked into their eyes before they glazed over in finality. They had drifted to sleep from death's cruel lullaby and his hands were the instruments. 

Life did not begin well for Mello. Orphaned at the age of three, Mello bounced from one orphanage to the next. Troublemaker was his title for some, but incompetent was the title he gave all of them. It wasn’t until he was brought to Wammy’s House did he gain some ground for himself. It was enough to gain some sort of leverage of his intelligence, they allowed him to thrive and expand. He met a friend, Matt, and then he met Near. Their past was already written in stone from the moment they met. They were competetors no matter what live they jumped to.

He had hated him for the longest time, the tiny white body who beat him down despite his strongest efforts. Near was his misery, his absolute poison; but for whatever god-given reason, he craved what fuel he gave him. It was a never-ending kick of adrenaline to feel such dark passion for someone. It was so addicting that the dark passion flourished into a sickening adoration, then a twisted version of love. It became so bad, that when Mello decided he no longer needed Wammy’s, Near decided to go with him. And he allowed it.

They had nothing but each other. It was hard to find places to sleep night after night, even harder to find their next meal. Mello did what he could, but there wasn’t much means for children their age to gain employment. He resorted to stealing, threats, whatever it took. It rewards earned never lasted long, and Mello knew that it would always be the same if a plan wasn’t made. Days on end would he fight with himself over his morals, his values; but one night the answer had been brought to him. He came back to Near with a man’s wallet, relief evident, until he saw Near lying limp on the ground. Malnourishment had taken over, and his breathing was dangerously slow. He spent the rest of the night helping him, bringing him back, never leaving his side. 

Mello had always fought with just how far he would go to keep them alive, but after seeing the terrifying sight that night, he knew. Mello would give up his dream of becoming L and catch the attention of the mafia. Near still had the chance, he could succeed L. But not like this.  He had to fend for them both, and he would be damned if he would fail. 

Finding the mafia wasn’t hard, but earning their trust was. Luckily, their positions of power lacked brainpower and the true cunning that it took to keep them strong. A long grueling year of his life was devoted to the mafia. Nights were spent screaming in a cold sweat, and every ounce of his mind was warped at the traumas of the dark life, but it never mattered. The only thing that did was Near was at his side, safe. 

The years moved like falling on ice. Near accepted becoming L’s successor, and Mello took full reigns on the mafia. There would never have been any other way, just as he expected, but it worked. Without each other, without good and evil, Kira never would have been defeated. They fulfilled L’s wishes even in death and therefore had done their duties as successors.

Near continued his position as L as it only seemed natural for him to, but instead of following him Mello remained in the mafia. Each year he grew stronger, but he questioned why he stayed There was no ties, no obligation to keep Near’s life safe anymore. They lived in a home far more lavish than either of them needed, had everything they could wish for and the money seemed unlimited. Suddenly he was no longer a brave martyr giving up his principals to secure their time on earth, or a hero playing a part for justice, but a villain. A villain too cowardly to leave the life he had become accustomed to. 

It ate him up inside, and soon after the trips to the looking glass became a nightly ritual. Tonight he had seen enough. Listlessly, Mello collapsed on the edge of the bathtub, shining leather gloves dropping to the floor beside him. With fingertips pressing tightly to his temples he sat in silence. He fought to keep his breath under control, but his lungs emptied out, refusing to replenish his air. Every awful deed his hands had committed flash in his mind. Every atrocious decision caused his nails to dig deeper and his heart to beat out of his chest. 

Monster,

Lowlife,

Villain,

Failure.

“Daddy?"

A tiny voice called from the entrance, and Mello shot up with eyes wide. He had forgotten to shut the door, and now standing inside of it was a a small boy- no older than four- with calm white hair. His eyes were round, brilliantly blue, and focused solely on him. Releasing a small breath, Mello motioned for him. “What are you doing awake?"

The toddler squirmed a little, staring at his feet as if he were found guilty of something. His voice came out small as he carefully ushered himself towards Mello. “M-Momma’s bedtime story scared me.."

Mello’s eye raised. Just when he was in distance, he scooped up the small body, placing him on his knee. “What did he tell you?” He asked, careful with his tone.

“Uh..” Little fingers busied themselves with each other as he tried to speak. “Something 'bout.. A mean man.. Who, who took kids and ate them!” His voice became more animated as he described what he could remember. "A cannonball! A mean, mean cannonball!"

Mello listened carefully, trying hard to not let his lips crack in a smile. “You mean cannibal."

“Yeah, yeah, that word!” The toddler bounced, tugging at Mello’s top. “And the can- cannibal would only eat the kids bodies and put their heads in a freezy! And, and then—!"

The story caused his lip to quiver in fear, and Mello quieted him with a small embrace, internally berating Near. ‘The one time he decided not to use the damn storybook…’ Once the small body calmed down he managed to speak, rubbing small circles in the square of his back. “There’s no cannibal eating little kids, I promise. Momma just has a really- specific imagination.” Mello smiled down at him, swiping a piece of stray hair from his blue vision, “Besides, there had to have been a happy ending, right?” He hoped Near at least remembered that much.

A moment’s contemplation glazed over the tiny features, but then he nodded confidently. “Y-yeah, a smart person caught the canni-bal and made him go to jail! He was a hero!"

“A hero, huh?” Hearing that word from his son’s cheerful voice almost made his stomach turn. The light in his eyes, it was something he’d never be able to bring. Redemption was something he wouldn’t be able to ask of his child. A frown encased itself on Mello’s lips, and he struggled to look him in the eyes, fearing just a small look would taint his innocence.

Still, the toddler had nothing but an expression of pure adoration as he nodded in earnest. “A hero kept the mean person away, daddy! That’s why I came to find you!" 

“—?” Mello almost laughed, but it was bitter. He shook his head “No… The only hero is your momma. I’m a villain."

Mello turned his head to the side, a whole new level of sin enveloping in his mind. He didn’t want to do this in front of his child, but it was creeping into his thoughts quicker than he could fight; but when small digits carefully touched his cheek, Mello turn to them. He met his son’s large eyes filled with concern. He shook his head avidly, and Mello couldn’t help the puzzled look on his face. 

“You’re not a villain!” The small voice came out as serious as it could, and tiny eyebrows scrunched together. “My daddy is the biggest hero! He made a bigger bad guy go away! More bigger than that canny-ball! And- and he makes me yummy food! And plays with me! And takes care of momma too!” He nodded again, patting Mello’s cheek as some sort of comfort. “Villains don’t do any of that! So daddy isn’t a villain!"

Those powerful words rang through the bathroom and through Mello’s thoughts. He sat watching him, completely in awe. He could have heard that from anyone else and it would have meant nothing; but coming from his son, one person on the very slim list of those he cared for, it meant everything. A chord stuck in heart, a small hint of liquid creeping passed his eyelids. He wiped it away quickly before he wrapped the small body in his arms, holding him with every once of love that he had. “I'll be your hero for as long as I'm around.”

No matter what happened to him, he knew his family would be the antidote.


End file.
